


Christmas Miracle

by writeitininkorinblood



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: (gifted but not used), Christmas, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Modern AU, Sex Toys, mild discussion of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: Pym gets Gawain an unexpected gift to mock him (good-naturedly, of course), but it ends up leading to the best Christmas present he could have asked for.
Relationships: Gawain | The Green Knight/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Nimue/Pym (Cursed)
Kudos: 27





	Christmas Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Unrelated to any other fic I've written, I figured we just needed a little festive fluff. Mildly nsfw, but no one actually does anything, it's just discussed.

Gawain should have known never to open a present from Pym in front of polite company, especially not when the smile on her face when she’d handed it over had been so deceptively innocent. But it was Christmas morning and he’d gotten caught up in the festive occasion and had forgotten that her antics didn’t take a day off. Besides, this particular present held the reassuring label ‘from Pym and Nimue’ in his sister’s neat writing, so perhaps it would be safe. So he sat there in the lounge and unwrapped the gift, getting halfway through pulling the paper away before he caught sight of the words ‘vibrates for your pleasure’ on the packaging and registered the unique shape of the item it held.

“Pym!” he hissed, quickly recovering it with the paper and shooting a look towards Squirrel, who was still inspecting the website of the archery club he’d been bought lessons at. Thankfully he hadn’t looked away in the last fifteen minutes.

Pym just shrugged and smiled angelically.

“Well since you’re still too much of a coward to ask Lancelot out and get any from him, and I know you’re far too hung up over him to get with anyone else, I figured all that time you’re spending with your own hand might be getting boring,” she explained innocently.

Gawain was going to go ahead and consider it a Christmas miracle that Squirrel was still distracted enough that he hadn’t internalised what Pym was saying. He wasn’t sure if the ten year out would have read between the lines of the innuendos, but he much preferred avoiding the risk all together.

Frowning, Nimue got up so she could peer over Gawain’s shoulder to see what was under the wrapping, since he was hardly putting it on display for the room.

“Wait, what did she get?” she asked, confused, reaching past the hand that was batting her away to push aside the corner of the paper.

As soon as she realised, she sighed long and deep and turned to her girlfriend.  
“Pym, remember when I said ‘okay that’s everyone sorted for Christmas except Gawain’ and you said ‘don’t worry, I know just what to get him, leave it with me’, is _this_ what you had in mind?” she said, stern.

Pym grinned and nodded.  
“He’ll be grateful, I’m sure. Once he’s given it a go,” she said cheerfully.

Gawain wasn’t the only one to pull a face – Nimue had no desire to imagine her brother’s sex life, regardless of who he was or wasn’t sharing it with.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she apologised to him, patting his shoulder.  
“It’s fine,” Gawain sighed, long-suffering. Really he should have been expecting it.

He tucked the paper more tightly around the gift, hoping to god Squirrel didn’t get curious about his presents and go looking through them. He’d have to find a better permanent hiding place than at the bottom of a drawer under piles of clothes, since the boy’s birthday was in January and he was almost certain to go hunting for his presents. But he was going to keep it. He was never going to admit that to Pym, because she didn’t deserve the satisfaction, but he wasn’t exactly not intrigued by the gift.

Just as he was considering what could constitute a safe storage location, Squirrel’s head popped up from behind his laptop screen like a meerkat, turning towards the window before scrambling up onto his knees to peer out.

“Lancelot’s here!” he whooped, jumping to his feet to race to the front door and swing it open, letting a gust of cold air in that wrapped around everyone in the lounge.

“Squirrel!” Nimue complained, pulling her blanket closer around her feet.

Lancelot didn’t have any family of his own. He’d had no one to spend the holiday with this year and the second Gawain had realised that, he’d been quick to extend an invitation to the man at the house he shared with Nimue, Pym and Squirrel. He was already practically family as it was and even if he’d had to retrospectively ask his housemates for permission, there were no objections. Lancelot belonged there.

Since Gawain had been the one to invite him, he dutifully got up to risk the now freezing cold hallway to welcome him, watching as Lancelot got out of the taxi and opened the boot to get out a bag of presents. Hearing chattering teeth, he looked down at the boy stood in front of him to see that the thin pyjamas he hadn’t yet changed out of were doing little to keep the cold at bay.

“Go and put your dressing gown on,” he suggested, nudging the boy in the direction of the lounge where the garment in question sat newly-opened under the tree. “Lancelot will still be here when you’re not freezing to death.”

Squirrel pouted, but thankfully listened for once and sped back down the hall to put something warm on just as Lancelot was coming up the driveway. Gawain would never have admitted the real reason he sent Squirrel off, but it came as soon as Lancelot made it to the front door. The hug.

He knew it was sad, but Squirrel would get a hug from Lancelot, who had fast become one of his favourite people, no matter what, but Gawain could only get away with it if he was the first one there to greet his friend. And it was Christmas, after all, so as much as he hated himself for it, he wanted that hug. Lancelot smiled as soon as he reached the door, seemingly in favour of his welcoming party and, like he belonged there, he slid into Gawain’s arms.

It was always risky, hugging Lancelot, because Gawain forgot all hugging etiquette. He couldn’t remember how long was a socially acceptable time to stand there, he wanted to bury his face in Lancelot’s hair and just breathe him in. But that wasn’t a good idea and he forced himself to take a step back after just a moment and stand aside so Lancelot could come in from the cold.

“Hi,” Gawain said, unable to stop the grin that took over his face. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Lancelot returned, almost shyly.

There was a moment that passed between them as they stood there, just looking at each other. It was a moment Gawain wouldn’t have dared to name, well aware it was probably constructed by his imagination getting the better of him, but he enjoyed it nevertheless. Until Squirrel popped up between them.

“Lancelot!” he yelled, as if they weren’t stood two feet away from each other.

He got his own hug and his attention was immediately diverted by the bag Lancelot had put down at his feet.

“You brought presents!”

“I heard that’s what you do at this time of year,” Lancelot shrugged, hiding a small smile.

They didn’t talk about the fact Lancelot had never had a Christmas before, not one he actually celebrated with family and a tree and presents and traditions. It warmed Gawain’s heart to know he could give Lancelot all those things, that there was a family, rag-tag as they may be, waiting just inside to welcome Lancelot into their home for one of Gawain’s favourite times of year. He would never be alone again. Even if Gawain would have preferred the dynamic between them to be rather different and to be able to greet Lancelot with a kiss rather than a stifled hug, and to sit close beside him on the sofa, with an arm around his shoulders, what they did have was better than nothing. There was still a portion of turkey reserved for Lancelot, and presents under the tree with his name on them. It was more than he’d ever had before.

Squirrel was keen to drag Lancelot down the corridor and into the lounge, and Gawain smiled to hear the greetings he got from Pym and Nimue. There was surely no way he couldn’t feel welcomed. Gawain offered his space on the sofa to Lancelot, but he had already been dragged down to the floor beside the tree and seemed quite content beside Squirrel, so Gawain just got to watch as the man he really did sort of love was endlessly patient with the overexcited boy he was practically raising as a son. It was the best sort of Christmas present and he only had to block out Pym’s knowing smirks to enjoy it. Nimue wasn’t even there to tell her to stop, having escaped to the kitchen to supervise the food. Really Gawain should have been helping, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to look away from Lancelot.

After passing over a few presents to Squirrel, boxes Gawain knew contained things he had suggested over several terrified phone calls where Lancelot was so concerned he was going to ruin Christmas by getting the kid something he didn’t like, Lancelot redirect his attention to Gawain.

“Here, this is for you,” he said quietly.

He held up a small, neatly wrapped box and Gawain was almost certain it had been wrapped with the help of a YouTube tutorial. The level of care put into it stopped his breath for a second.

“You didn’t have to,” he protested faintly.

It was true. Lancelot’s presence was more than enough. But he was insistent.  
“I wanted to,” he said softly, an uncertain smile accompanying the words.

Gawain knew if he kept refusing then he was going to hurt Lancelot’s feelings, which was the last thing he wanted, so he reached down to carefully, reverently, take the small box. So focused was he on the gift in his hands that he leant slightly too far over the arm of the sofa and jostled the small pile of presents he has received earlier and set aside so they wouldn’t accidentally get tidied away. Top of the pile was Pym’s gift, forgotten in the flurry of Lancelot’s arrival, but remembered just in time to watch it slip out of its wrapping paper cocoon and bounce across the floor to land beside Lancelot’s knee.

Gawain wanted to die. The world stopped and he used the extra few moments on earth to pray that both Squirrel and Lancelot weren’t going to notice. He got half of what he asked for. Squirrel was distracted by shaking one of the presents Lancelot had handed him, trying to guess what was inside before ripping him open, but Lancelot wasn’t so preoccupied. He couldn’t fail to notice the item that had suddenly accosted him, automatically picking it up so he could hand it back. As he passed it over, he looked down at exactly what it was and it was very obvious the second he realised what he was holding. His cheeks immediately bloomed with a blush that Gawain would have found endearing under any other circumstances. Except he knew his own face was far redder as he took the present and hid it back in the wrapping. There was still Squirrel’s innocence to protect.

“It’s from Pym,” Gawain explained weakly.

Lancelot didn’t know that Pym’s gift-giving often followed a similarly inappropriate theme. He didn’t have the necessary context to realise that the present wasn’t anything Gawain had asked for or wanted; all he was probably doing was thinking that Gawain was lonely and desperate enough to get a vibrator as a gift, and while that wasn’t exactly an inaccurate statement, the last thing he wanted was Lancelot thinking it.

Not wanting to suffer through his own embarrassment any longer, Gawain bolted. He wasn’t proud of it and really as an adult he had no reason to be ashamed of owning a sex toy, especially one he hadn’t even bought himself. Only this was _Lancelot_ , and all he could think when he looked at the present was the fact that if he did ever use it, it would be exactly this man on his mind when he did, as guilty as he would feel afterwards for it.

Nimue didn’t really have time to deal with his insignificant crisis, especially if he wasn’t in the right mind to actually help her with the food. He just curled up on the kitchen floor, back against the cupboards, with his head in his hands.

“Everything okay?” Nimue asked, because he was sat in front of the pan cupboard and she was going to need him to move sooner rather than later which would be easier if he wasn’t in such a state.

“No. I think my life has earned its own laugh track, so more people can share in the mocking of my misfortune,” Gawain groaned, leaning his head back until it thumped against the cupboard door.

“You may need to be more specific,” Nimue snorted.

They were a rather over-dramatic household; there was always one disaster or another rearing its head – more often than not someone had just finished the last of the Doritos or knocked over a mug of tea.  
“Lancelot saw Pym’s gift,” Gawain admitted morosely.

Okay, that was a little worse than being out of crisps or spilling a hot drink. She quickly assessed the gravy she was stirring on the stove and decided that it could last a few minutes unsupervised. Crossing her arms, she spun to face her ridiculous older brother.  
“You are a grown-up. Grown-ups are allowed to have sex lives. They are allowed to own vibrators. What’s the problem?” she asked, trying to be reasonable.

Admittedly she didn’t want to hear about Gawain’s sex life herself, but that seemed fair since they’d been raised together. She was willing to accept he had one, but that was as far as she wanted to go. But that still didn’t mean he needed to be ashamed of anything.  
“I know, I _know_. I just…” Gawain looked quickly towards the door and quietened his voice. “He’s the one I want to… You know…”

He felt like a teenager. A horny teenager embarrassed by everything and incapable of making sane decisions because his feelings seemed far too overwhelming to comprehend.

“You need to deal with this, Gawain,” Nimue pointed out, matter of fact as always.

“Yeah, I-” he tried, but he didn’t get far before she interrupted him.

“But not today. Today you need to at least act sane and stay chipper for Squirrel. I will have words with Pym so she tones it down, and…”

She trailed off when she saw the very object of their conversation step into the room. He always moved silently so they hadn’t got much of a warning, but hopefully he hadn’t overheard anything incriminating.

Gawain scrambled to his feet, not wanting to look pathetic. He took a step towards Lancelot but had no idea what to say. ‘I’m sorry you saw the sex toy I was bought for Christmas when I had tried to hide it’, ‘I’m sorry that I’ll probably end up dreaming of using it on you, or thinking of you as I use it’. They weren’t really options, not if he wanted to avoid never seeing Lancelot ever again. Instead he just stood there, meeting Lancelot’s silence with his own and looking helplessly into his eyes.

Thankfully there was always Pym to be relied on to interrupt them.

It didn’t seem like she actually meant to interrupt, considering she was holding an empty champagne glass and seemed in search of a refill. She stopped as soon as she saw the sight in the doorway. Gawain didn’t even notice she was there until she started laughing. He turned to glare at her sharply, but she didn’t take any note of it, instead gesturing above their heads.

Gawain had forgotten about the mistletoe. Pym had strung it up everywhere in the pursuit of kisses from Nimue so it largely didn’t concern him, but now it was hanging from the light fixture over his head. His and Lancelot’s heads.

His heart starting racing far faster than was medically safe and he wanted to run again, but he couldn’t abandon Lancelot to Pym’s meddling alone. It wasn’t fair.

“Pym please, just give me one day off,” he begged instead.

It sounded far rawer than he’d anticipated and the pain laced beneath the words was obvious even to his own ears. Lancelot was staring at him, confused and a little upset and Gawain knew he was going to have to explain, even though he really, really didn’t want to. At least it did seem to scare Pym into retreating. She tucked herself behind Nimue, finally keeping silent.

“Gawain?” Lancelot asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

The question was clear: what was going on? Gawain didn’t know what to say.

Nimue cleared her throat.

“I would love to give you both some privacy, but I really can’t leave the stove right now,” she apologised.

Right. Privacy. She was right, this would be horrible enough without an audience and Gawain didn’t even know what he was going to say yet. He took Lancelot’s arm and tugged him in the direction of the garden. It was cold enough to see puffs of their breath, but at least that guaranteed they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“I’m sorry about my family,” he sighed. “They can be intense.”

“No, I like them,” Lancelot protested. “I just don’t understand why Pym was laughing?”

“Do you know what mistletoe usually means?” Gawain asked, getting to the point.

He tried to avoid bringing attention to the fact that Lancelot had very little frame of reference for what could be considered Christmas traditions, but they needed to cut to the chase because Gawain wasn’t wearing shoes and he could feel the cold seeping through his socks and up his shins.  
“No,” Lancelot admitted, ducking his head.

Without thinking about it, even though he really should have thought about it, Gawain reached out to gently lift Lancelot’s chin with the side of his knuckle. He had no reason to be ashamed of a past he had had no control over. Now the moment was suddenly far too intimate and he didn’t think he still had control over it, which was more than a little terrifying.

“Traditionally, if two people are caught under the mistletoe together, they’re supposed to kiss,” he explained, avoiding eye contact.

Gawain didn’t expect the reply he got.  
“And you don’t want to kiss me.” Lancelot said, sounding, just possibly, _sad_ about that fact. Except it wasn’t a fact.  
“No! I mean yes, I… Well… It’s not fair to do that to someone. To make them feel like they don’t have a choice,” he scrambled to explain.

He had no idea what road he was going down, but it was a terrifying one and he felt his hands shaking from more than just the cold.

Lancelot nodded slowly. That made sense – Gawain was always against forcing anyone to do anything they weren’t comfortable with. If he wanted to do this, he needed to ask. So he did.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“What?!” Gawain spluttered, scaring off a nearby robin with his sudden fervour.

Eyes going wide with fear that he’d screwed everything up, Lancelot tried to backtrack.  
“I wanted to give you a choice. I understand if you say no, but-”

He didn’t make it to the end of the sentence on account of his mouth suddenly being rather otherwise occupied. Gawain’s fingers were in his hair, palms cupping his cheeks and shielding him from the cold. Not that Lancelot could feel it anymore. He was entirely overwhelmed with the earth-shattering kiss he was being treated to. As much as he’d imagined this day over and over, worrying that his presents would be wrong or he’d ruin a tradition, he’d never quite expected it to go like this. He had just enough presence of mind to kiss back, hands finding Gawain’s waist and trying not to hold on as tight as he wanted, so tight he never had to let go.

Nimue tried incredibly hard to pretend she wasn’t watching as she drained vegetables and searched for the carving knife. Pym wasn’t so polite. She stared out the window with a smug look on her face. This wasn’t exactly what she’d been planning when she’d picked out Gawain’s gift, but it couldn’t have ended much better. Turning to Nimue with a self-satisfied grin, she was met with a warning look that clearly read ‘we saw nothing and will say nothing’. Pym just raised her now-refilled champagne glass in a toast.

“God bless us everyone.”


End file.
